


Bloom

by spacegirl11



Series: Pink Moon [2]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, everyone is 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirl11/pseuds/spacegirl11
Summary: In those heady days of June, when love became an act of defiance and fate designed them to be together, Jeff is leaving.Or, a prequel...
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin, Duff McKagan/Slash
Series: Pink Moon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199738
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> When I got my laptop fixed, I encounter a bunch of unused scenes or dialogue from my fic 'Notion', it's one of my favorites, so be sure to read that one first to understand better. I wanted to do a more in-depth study of Axl/Izzy's relationship and Slash and Duff's. This work has time skips and it's divided into two parts, and Tash Sultana released a new album last month, so they gave me a lot of inspiration.  
> Well, that's it, thanks for reading, stay safe and I'll see you later 💜

When Bill gets his mark, he feels nothing more than cold dread, a shiver running down his spine, anxiety gnawing at him, squeezing his heart. The red roses softly tattooed on his right cheek, with pointy thorns and vines curling around it; he’s supposed to be happy, but he feels nothing else than fear. If Stephen sees it, he would flip out, and the redhead won’t hear the end.

The universe could never be kind to him, it’s a simple red little rose on his cheek; he’ll hide it behind a band-aid, nothing to worry about. He thinks about how he’s going to cover them from his stepfather in the future.

Bill doesn’t know how soul marks work. A side of him always assumed he’d never get one, even if he wanted to; some people don’t get a mark at all, and they always looked so relieved. _You don’t deserve one_ , would claim Stephen, and the redhead believe it. He doesn’t deserve one.

He skips breakfast and heads out of the house, avoiding any contact with his stepfather as long as he can. Bill walks through the same streets he memorized for 18 years until he arrives at Jeff’s place. He climbs to the second floor, using the windowsill to impulse himself, and falls with a thud on the carpeted floor.

Bill finds the brunet dozing off on the bed, light brown hair falling on his shoulders, there’s a nasty bruise on his right cheek, _in the same place the roses bloomed_ , notes the redhead, his friend flinches when he notices his presence, quickly covering the bruise, the ginger doesn’t ask any question, it’s not strange at all, they get in plenty of fights, Bill shrugs and plops on the bed next to him, snuggling closer to Jeff.

It’s not cuddling.

At least that’s what Bill convinces himself of; It’s not fucking gay because they’re not even touching. His hand resting over Jeff's chest, feeling the sturdy thump of his heart don't count. So no, they’re technically not cuddling, they’re just two friends, sharing a bed and listening to some music. Nothing wrong with that, except Bill, _don’t even cuddle with girls_.

But he would do an exception for Jeff. He would _always_ do.

The Ramones are playing softly in the background because Jeff knows how much Bill liked to hear them, even if he denied it, and he had been very adamant in wanting to hear every vinyl Jeff owned. The brunet is humming softly. He grabs a cigarette and dangles it from his lips, eyes closed, his eyelids fluttering lightly, arms behind his head. Izzy looks relaxed, and Bill finds it a little annoying.

Bill grabs the cigarette and gives it a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs; the whole room stinks of old smoke and cheap cologne. Izzy’s mom is going to be pissed again because they didn’t open the window. They’ve been doing this kind of shit since Jeff drags him behind the bleachers at school. Well, it’s something they do if Stephen wasn’t looking for him.

Their shoulders brush lightly, Bill can almost feel the heat of his skin and smell the fabric softener in his clothes, the redhead swallows, his heart beating faster, Jeff doesn’t pull away and toys with the wooden beads of the collar around his neck.

“ _Oh, I'm so glad I found you_ ,” Izzy starts singing softly, tapping his fingers over his knee, he still has his eyes closed. Bill thinks his voice sounds good, better than the kids at choir practice; it’s raspy and low, almost beautiful, “ _I want my arms around you_.”

Bill shakes his head, with a slight smile on his lips, he gives the cigarette another long drag, savoring the bitter taste of nicotine in his lips and the burn from the smoke in the back of his throat. Izzy’s voice is tolerable; it almost merges with the song. He could give Joey a run for his money.

“ _I love to hear you call my name_ ,” the brunet turns and opens his eyes, big, chestnut orbs piercing through his soul, the ginger’s gaze darts between his eyes and those parted lips singing softly, “There’s something I want to tell you. I’m leaving, Billy.”

Bill's entire body going stiff; the words hang between them, turning the entire air sour, the brunet sighs and glances at his friend, The redhead doesn’t respond, his warm weight beside Jeff is pleasant.

The ginger refused to look at him, his heart pumping faster and his breath shaky. Bill knew it was going to happen, Jeff had this dream of grandeur, of leaving this shitty place behind and make a life out for himself. He didn’t resent him for that. What hurts the most was the fact that Jeff wasn’t taking him along for the ride.

“I know you heard me, Billy,” the brunet swallowed and pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing, keeping his voice as expressionless as possible. Bill shifted, sheets rustling, he turned away, staring at the wall.

Jeff hated he couldn’t see the expression on the redhead’s face, which made everything more uncertain. Bill won’t look at him. The brunet hated how it felt like ripping a band-aid from a scab and sprinkling some salt on the wound.

“And what? There’s nothing I could say to make you change your mind,” he snapped, facing his friend, green eyes were flooded with the unshed tears, he rubbed his eyes with his forearm roughly.

It felt as if someone was ripping Bill’s heart out. The ginger remembered a distant October where they promised each other to leave. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jeff, pull him closer to his chest, hold him a little longer…

“No, Billy. I won’t change my mind,” Jeff drops his gaze down, toying with the sheet underneath him. If he stared at the redhead long enough, this would hurt more. He wasn’t just leaving his friend, but his soulmate, the person created only for him.

“You’re leaving me either way,” Bill’s voice is barely a murmur, it breaks, comes out croaky. He turns around, fighting back the tears falling down his cheeks. Jeff’s heart breaks a little, “I know this is your decision, and it’s final, but it’s bullshit—you’re fuckin’ leaving me behind.”

Bill’s voice rises an octave higher, cheeks tear-stained, red-rimmed eyes, he chokes on a sob, Jeff also had watery eyes, he wasn’t the only one hurting; he blinked the tears away, sniffing and his bottom lip quivering. This was going to make things more difficult. It was going to be tougher to leave him behind.

“Why the fuck are you leaving me?” Bill’s voice breaks again. It was deep, like it didn't belong to someone that boyish and androgynous.

“Because I’m fuckin’ tired, Billy, I’m tired of this hellhole of everyone judging what I do, of not having a future, I hate going out and smell the cow shit, I want to go out and smell the salt of the sea. It’s suffocating me—”

‘ _You’re the only reason I haven’t left_ ’ Jeff opened his mouth, but the words are trapped on his throat and he pursed his lips again, Bill looked so goddamn tired and heartbroken, a headache was coming fast, his chest ached.

If Jeff was his soulmate, only if Jeff loved him, he would never leave him; Bill would follow him to the end of the world or wherever he wanted to go, all he had to do was ask. The redhead scoffed. He was crying, and he couldn't stop. No use in hiding the tears by now.

“Whatever, Isbell, have fun in California—” Bill sniffed and abruptly got up, pushing the brunet away, walking towards the window. He didn't look at Jeff.

“Bill—" the brunet stepped towards him, grabbed him by the arms, and turned him around, pushing him against the wall of his room, resting a hand on his damp cheek, caressing both sides of his face, before crashing their lips together.

Jeff kissed him as if he wanted to consume him, to memorize the shape of his lips and the taste of his mouth, take a piece of him on his trip; he kept a hand on his arm, gripping it weakly, while the other one rested over his damp cheek, his thumb wiping the stray tears away from his sharp cheekbones. Bill whimpered but kissed him back fervently, warm fingers carded through his slightly greasy hair, grabbing two fistfuls of Jeff’s hair, holding him in place, refusing to let him go. They kissed until they couldn’t breathe.

When they pulled away, Bill stared at him with his glassy greenish eyes. He wouldn’t let go of his hair. He was out of breath, lips a little red. Jeff tasted like cinnamon, sweet, spicy, but woodsy; the bruise on the brunet's cheek caught his attention. The ginger has to bite his lip not to ask him about it; he didn’t notice when the brunet’s hand finds his way towards his thigh, it’s warm and firm, stroking him over the denim of his jeans.

“What are you doing?” asks Bill, his Adam’s apple bobbing and forehead furrowed.

“I-I wanted to touch you.”

Bill stared into his friend’s deep chestnut eyes, they were so rich, warm, it reminded the redhead of honey in the sun, or a hot cup of coffee in the morning, his pupils were dilated, they were so beautiful it made Bill’s chest ache; he sniffs the air. Maybe Jeff had been drinking before he arrived or smoke a joint because there’s no way in hell that he would do something like this sober, but he can’t smell anything.

The brunet squeezes his thigh lightly, heat bubbles in the pit of Bill’s lower belly, his hand slides up, rests on the belt loops; the first kiss was tender, but this time Jeff grabs his chin, teeth clanking together, the redhead parts his lips, Jeff’s tongue sliding right in, Bill can only hear the rush of blood behind his ears, he places his arms on the brunet’s shoulders, bringing him closer. The brunet leads him towards the bed, hands on his waist, pulling him closer until Bill’s sitting on his lap.

“What are _we_ doing?” the ginger stares at his friend’s face, feeling butterflies fluttering, there was a pull inside his chest, screaming, urging him to be as near Jeff as possible, as if a string was attached to his heart, and was bringing him closer and closer to him.

“I dunno,” Jeff shakes his head, he smooths a hand over his hair, it’s an honest answer, he never expected to make it this far, his hand rests over Bill’s hip, sliding his jeans down until he feels the soft fabric of the cotton briefs, his thumb toying with the waistband.

“Wait-” Bill stops him, cupping his face, he’s never seen that open expression of pure adoration on his friend, and he was looking at him. Jeff’s never been that expressive. His eyes seemed to do all the work; the brunet pulled away.

“Sorry,” mumbles Jeff, sighing deeply, but the redhead grabbed his hand, leaving it again on his hip.

“I don’t know what are we doing, what this is. But, I want you to continue,” pleaded the ginger. He tilted his face and looked at Jeff, who nodded solemnly, pulling him back into his lap, sliding his hands under his thin t-shirt. Bill shivers, involuntarily rolling his hips, feeling how tight the front of the brunet’s pants are. If the redhead wasn’t hard before, now he is.

There’s a fire in the redhead’s groin, he takes a sharp intake of breath, it’s shaky, he’s freaking out, but Jeff is gentle, sweet, holding him tenderly in his lap; feeling a little more comfortable, Bill rolls his hips again, earning a low groan from his friend. The material of his pants is too uncomfortable. It rubs on the redhead’s naked thighs.

He slides his hands between their bodies to the front of Jeff’s jeans, unbuckling the belt; he helps the redhead by lifting his hips a smidge. Bill's stomach does a flip, he doesn’t know where he gets this courage from, but he’s eager enough to get his friend naked. He pushes Jeff’s shirt off and rubs his shoulders. There're faint moles dotted on the brunet’s skin; he can’t stop staring at him, he looks gorgeous with his pale skin, revealing more with each item discarded.

Jeff’s wearing boxers shorts, the ginger can see the outline of his hard cock, he blushes, his gaze falling to the ground, he’s not entirely ready to see what’s underneath it, even if he’s curious and his mouth waters a bit. Bill bites his bottom lip as the brunet toys with the elastic of his boxers, sliding them down slowly, revealing dark pubes. The redhead feels his cheeks burning; he’s never seen another dick that wasn’t his, especially a big, thick cock like the one he has in front of his face.

“We can stop any time you want. I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Jeff irradiates anxious energy. The look on the redhead’s face is unreadable. It tears apart Bill, he didn’t know why he’s doing it or why the brunet wants to keep going. He didn’t realize Jeff wanted him in _that way_.

“I don’t wanna stop, Jeffrey, don’t make me doubt it,” Bill's gaze drops to the brunet’s still excited cock between the soft pubic hairs in his loin, staring at his shaft.

With a shaky hand, Bill grips the base of his friend’s cock, stroking just how he would do to himself. His own shaft gives a weak twitch inside his boxers, there’s a faint blush dusting Jeff’s cheeks; swallowing, Bill presses his lips on the tip. He doesn’t mind the slightly musky smell on his skin, combined with the fabric softener and cheap deodorant he loves to wear.

The redhead parts his lips, taking the head of Jeff’s cock inside his mouth, tongue swirling over the slit, as if he was sucking on a lollipop, the brunet grunts and carded his fingers through red, messy hair, tugging it lightly, it’s getting longer, the ginger looks good.

A shiver runs down Bill's spine, he’s careful not to scrape Jeff with his teeth, his jaw is getting sore, tongue flat on the underside of the brunet’s shaft, where he can feel a thick vein, drool slides down his chin. Jeff doesn’t urge him to take more, he doesn’t thrust his hips forward, his fingers rest over his hair, caressing the scalp. He nudges at him before he can finish inside his mouth.

The brunet wraps a hand around his erection, giving a few pumps. Before he’s spilling in his hand, Jeff wipes his hand with the discarded t-shirt he wore before he’s pushing the redhead in the mattress. He positions himself between Bill’s legs. There’s a damp patch in the front of his boxers. He tugs his underwear down; the ginger lifts his hips so the brunet can slide them down, and tossed them on the floor with the pile of dirty, unwashed clothes.

Jeff keeps his stormy, chestnut eyes fixed on the redhead’s face as he licks the underside of his cock, taking him eagerly into his mouth, It’s filthy, lewd. He looks at him with pure lust; the feeling of warmth around Bill’s cock makes his toe curls and his back arch. His dick was already weeping inside his boxers, and now he’s leaking inside Jeff’s mouth. He won’t last long, cumming too soon like a fucking virgin.

“Shit, Jeff, I-I’m gonna-" the redhead stutters as his friend hollows his cheeks and bobs his head. That’s all the warning Jeff gets, before Bill’s cock pulsates inside his mouth, a white, hot flash dancing in front of his eyes. The ginger squeezes his eyes shut, feeling embarrassed. He just came too soon, Jeff swallows.

“You taste good,” he expected that kind of snarky remark from his friend. At least he wasn’t making fun of how fast he came; Bill pulls him into another kiss. It’s undeniably indecent, the ginger can taste his own semen on Jeff’s lips, but somehow it made it more intimate.

The brunet gathered his clothes and got dressed, smiling fondly in Bill’s direction. The bastard looks adorable, with his brown, soft hair, wild, mussed, and sticking out in every direction; he grabs his lighter and a hidden cigarette from his nightstand. Before laying down next to Bill. His friend turns to look at him, slender fingers ghosting over the bruise.

“What happened?” Jeff cups the end of the cigarette, a cloud of smoke hiding his features. He shakes his head, lips curving around the filter.

“Nothin’, you’re not the only one who got mad ‘cus I’m leavin’,” Jeff almost wants to say _‘come with me to California'_ , but he pursed his lips, clearing his throat, “What happened to you?”

“I fell on a rock,” Bill gingerly touches the band-aid in his cheek with the pad of his fingers. Jeff understood not to make more questions. The redhead is used to lie about his injuries.

Bill stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars high in the popcorn ceiling that would gleam at night. That was his favorite part of coming at Jeff’s house, aside from the records; the brunet’s eyes are closing, eyelids heavy and droopy. Sometimes he wishes Jeff would be his soulmate, share a more deep bond, ribbons would tie them together, bound to fall in love, and it’s going to be the best thing it ever happened to him. The stars don’t gleam, and all that’s left to do is dream. Maybe in another life, Jeff’s his soulmate. Because this one wasn't enough.


End file.
